All Aboard
by a-ufo-party
Summary: When the monolith survives the castle explosion, Fitzsimmons must go undercover on board a train to investigate a traveling circus and get back the portal, all the while attempting to salvage their broken relationship. But when the circus is hiding an inhuman secret, the scientist duo may be in over their heads. Canon divergent after Maveth.
1. All Aboard

**_A/N:_** Hello, you beautiful person! Thank you for checking out my story. Hope you like it! If you do, don't forget to follow, favorite, and most importantly, review! This story is very loosely inspired by Hawkeye #2 and will feature/mention a few comic book characters. (If you haven't read Matt Fraction's Hawkeye, you should! It is amazing!)

Picks up roughly three weeks post- _Maveth_...

* * *

 ** _Prologue_**

 _Coulson pulled up an image on the screen of the lab computer. A large group of people in outlandish, dark blue and silver attire smiled back at them. "They call themselves Cirque Du Nuit. Roughly translates to, 'Night Circus,' I think."_

 _"Okay...so, what's the problem?" Fitz asked, lifting his eyebrows._

 _"This." With a thud, the director dropped a tablet, displaying a graph, into Fitz's lap. "Recently, we picked up massive gravitational pulls coming from different places at different times. These guys are the only thing that the locations have in common. And lately, they had a sudden change in fortune. Strange that a circus which was on the brink of bankruptcy as of 6 months ago managed to book the Hotel Metropol theater, don't you think?"_

 _Fitz nodded, his tongue poking out of the corner of his thin lips._

 _After crossing his arms, the director gave a dry head-jerk. "Any guesses when this all started?"_

 _Looking up from the screen, Fitz rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "After they did a show in England, I reckon."_

 _"Bingo. Got any ideas of what's causing them?"_

 _"They must've swiped the monolith pieces from the castle ruins-"_

 _He made a buzzer noise. "Nope, try again. Not pieces..."_

 _"Are you saying-"_

 _"Those damn rocks survived the explosion? Yeah. That's what I'm saying."_

 _"The circus...are they Hydra?" Scrolling down, Fitz's eyes scanned the photos of caravans and elaborate sets._

 _"Doubt it."_

 _"Think Hydra knows about them yet?"_

 _"It's a safe bet they don't, but I'm not taking any chances. I need you and Simmons on this yesterday."_

 _"Yeah, of course, sir. We can run some scans of the area-"_

 _"Not what I had in mind. Like I said, their next show is at Hotel Metropol in New York, so start packing." Turning, the director made his way to the door of the lab._

 _Fitz jumped up and sprinted after him. "Wait! Sir, you mean we're going undercover?"_

 _"That's exactly what I mean."_

 _"But, I don't think I'm qualified for-"_

 _"Fitz, you've done more research on the monolith than anyone else. And Simmons is the only person alive who's spent more than a few hours on the other side. I need you two handling this up close." The director stopped and looked sternly at him. "We can't afford to lose more innocent lives to that thing because some circus punks decided it would make a nice attraction. I want you to locate it and bring it to me."_

 _"Then what?"_

 _"...and then I'm going to destroy the hell out of it."_

 _Nodding nervously, Fitz continued to walk beside Coulson. "So, Jemma-"_

 _"You two working together won't be a problem, will it?"_

 _He shook his head, ringing his hands stressfully. "No, sir."_

 _"Good. Simmons said the same thing. She's already been briefed. Get packing."_

* * *

"302...303...Room 304. This is it." Jemma's voice called down the hall. "Do hurry up, Fitz."

"Coming...m'coming." He muttered, looking over the towering stack of luggage he was hauling. They had both brought two suitcases in addition to their backpacks; one for cloths and necessities and the other for equipment. When he finally caught up to her, he handed over the room card.

"Sorry for snapping." She sighed, swiping the key and pushing open the door. "I'm just-"

"Nervous. I know. It's okay." Following her into the room, he gingerly dropped the bags onto the foyer floor. Then, he stuffed his hands in his pockets and trailed Jemma into the main space.

The suit was nice. One of the nicest he'd ever stayed in, as a matter of fact. All of the decor was muted blues and grays, with silver accents, giving it a cold, unwelcoming, superior vibe. A queen sized bed, laden with teal and gray pillows, sat at the center of the room opposite a large television. Beside the bed was a remote for controlling the softness and height of the mattress. Branching off from the bedroom was the large bathroom, containing a full sized tub and vanity.

The back wall of the room was completely glass, with a door in the center, leading to the balcony. And a small desk with a cozy lamp and outlet called to him from the far left corner. In another branch of the suit, a sitting area, there was a black couch, which they'd been informed was a fold-out, and two comfortable easy-chairs sandwiching a metallic coffee table. There was even a small kitchen, separated from the sitting area by a breakfast bar.

"Do you suppose we should go grocery shopping?" Jemma's voice carried from the tiny kitchenette, prompting Fitz to join her.

"That depends on how long we're staying. Circus'll most likely leave town next week and depending on how this goes, we may follow 'em." Biting his lip, he opened the mini fridge to find it stocked with alcohol and soda. "Recon this is complementary?"

A smile twisted the corners of Jemma's mouth. "Yes, I assume so. I wouldn't be too excited, though. We won't be drinking any." She paused and added with a slight pout, "And they don't have tea."

"I saw a machine in the lobby on our way in. I could get you some, if y'want." Realizing how enthusiastic he sounded, he blushed.

"That's alright. I suppose we should call Coulson now. And then I need to start getting ready for the show. Did Daisy tell you that we have to walk a red carpet? Awfully posh for a circus."

"Well, what do you expect? It's in the auditorium of a five star hotel."

"All the same, we ought to look the part, as we're meant to blend in."

Nodding, Fitz made his way back into the bedroom and grabbed his laptop. Then, he fell into the rolling chair by the desk in the corner.

Jemma joined him, pulling up a stool from the kitchen.

After securing the line, Fitz called up the video chat. A pixelated image of Daisy made its way onto the screen.

"Oh, hey guys!" She grinned.

"Er, hi. Is Coulson-" Fitz started.

"Yeah, hang on." Turning away from the camera, she cupped her lips. "Coulson! Fitz is on the line."

After a moment, the directors face appeared, taking Daisy's place. He gave a firm nod and exchanged greetings. "You've both already been briefed, so I assume you've got a general idea of the mission. You go. You observe. You come back to your hotel. We don't need to start anything ugly just yet. For all we know, they could have no idea what it is they've got and turn it over no questions asked."

A dry laugh escaped Fitz's lips.

Coulson lifted his eyebrows. "Trying out a new optimistic thing. But I wouldn't get used to it."

Jemma gave a thin, amused smile. "Of course not, sir."

"Alright, Fitzsimmons. Be safe. You'll talk to Daisy tonight if you need information. Same line. Oh, and Jemma?"

"Yes sir?"

"We located Mr. Daniels' parents. I was going to call them, but Agent Morse thought you would want to handle that yourself."

Fitz saw Jemma stiffen.

Pulling on an emotionless, fake-calm face, she tucked her hair behind her ear. "Th-thank you. I'll...call them tomorrow."

There was a soft, parental look in Coulson's eyes as he smiled gently at her. "Alright. Remember, no real details. Just make something up."

"Of course, sir."

"Okay. Sending the number now."

Surely enough, the contact automatically appeared in Jemma's phone.

"Got it." She nodded, with a sharp inhale.

"Take care, you two." The director signed off as the image faded.

"Er...do you want to-" Fitz started cautiously, turning to face her.

"No thank you." She snapped, rising with a jolt. "I suppose I'll get ready now."

And with that, she disappeared into the bathroom, leaving Fitz alone with the all too familiar pain in his chest.

* * *

Fitz had never felt so out of place in his life.

Maybe it was the tuxedo or the cameras flashing. Maybe it was the families who were richer than everyone he knew combined strutting about. Maybe it was the fact that he had Daisy in his ear listing off the names of wealthy people in attendance. (Names which he would inevitably forget)

But most likely it was the fact that Jemma was wearing an alarmingly flattering gown and holding his arm.

"Okay, I just got you closer seats." Daisy's voice cut through his internal dialog. "Comin' at ya in about five minutes, I'd guess. You are welcome."

Fitz didn't reply. He wasn't supposed to. Seeing a man having a one sided conversation would certainly draw attention, which was the last thing they needed. Instead, he pretended to itch his ear; lightly tapping the com to let her know he heard her.

"I haven't been to the circus since I was a girl." Tucking her hair out of her face, Jemma looked around the crowded carpet.

"I've never been." Fitz bit his lip, glancing at her again. She really did look stunning. A sleek black fabric wrapped her torso, falling in pleats to her ankles. Her hair had been twisted into a bun, with several loose strands curling at the side of her face. Adorning her lips was a crisp red color and a grey clutch, which matched her pumps, rested in her hand. (Apparently Bobbi had had a say in the outfit)

"It's a shame you won't get to enjoy it." She sighed. Then, in a whisper, she added, "But this is hardly like the show I went to. It was in an old tent at a country carnival, not a posh theater."

"And I bet we don't have to guess what attraction is funding the venue." He muttered, strolling through the large double doors.

The smell of popcorn, alcohol, and barn animals instantly assaulted his nose; an aroma which didn't exactly match the luxurious atmosphere. Dangling from the towering ceiling were massive crystal chandeliers. Detailed paintings spread across the walls, accompanied by gold trimming, which seemed to be genuine.

As he and Jemma made their way down the hall, which was carpeted in deep blue velvet, they were offered champagne in tall, chilled glasses. Though they both accepted the beverage, neither of them actual drank. They needed to stay sober in case something went wrong. Finally, they reached the end of the hall, where the main theater entrance loomed.

"Mr. Firth?" A slightly husky male voice asked in a thick French accent.

Turning, Fitz nodded nervously at the short gentleman who was approaching them. "Er, yeah?"

"I am so glad I was able to speak with you before you took your seats. You and your guest are in luck. We've just had a cancellation. I was told to offer you the newly emptied box seat."

Fitz tried to look surprised. "Oh! That's...that's really...great. Thank you."

"We will enjoy that very much. Thank you, sir." Jemma smiled, nodding graciously.

"You are certainly welcome, _madam_. I hope you like the show." The plump man handed her the tickets. Then, he turned and disappeared into the crowd.

"Do at least attempt to seem relaxed, Fitz." Jemma scolded, releasing his arm to slip the tickets into her clutch.

"Sorry. Just nervous." Sighing, he gave her an apologetic look. "I haven't been undercover since-" He paused, head suddenly clouding with uncomfortable memories.

"Since when, Fitz?" There was a real concern in her voice that tugged at his heart.

"Er, just a rubbish idea I had while you were MIA. Thought the monolith was the same principle as the, uh, the Pym Particle so I went undercover to do some research."

A sad, distant expression assumed Jemma's face.

"...obviously, the theory was rubbish, but...I guess it was worth a look, anyway." He blushed, staring at the floor.

The pair made their way up the steps to the box seats. Their's was closest to the stage.

"Er, I'm sorry. For bringing up your being MIA, I mean." His shoulders sagged as he sunk into the black velvet chair.

An amused smile made its way onto her face as she sat beside him. "Considering we're here about the monolith, I hardly blame you for bringing it up."

"I know. I just don't like to-"

"Remind me of the unpleasant memories? I know, Fitz. And that's very sweet of you. But we can't just forget that it happened and move on. That wouldn't be healthy."

"Yeah. You're right." Shrugging, he cast her a sideways look. "M'sorry."

"You have nothing to apologize for."

"I know, I know." With a heavy sigh, he leaned back in the chair. The air between them was growing tight.

After a slightly awkward moment, he felt her hand touch his own.

His heart jumped.

"I am...glad that I was assigned this mission with you, Fitz. Maybe it will help things."

"Things?" Trying to mask the hope in his voice, he mumbled. In a sudden act of courage, he turned over his hand to clasp hers.

"You know. Help us get back to normal."

"Normal. Right. What...what's that going to be-"

"Yo, I'm still here." Daisy's voice interrupted. "The show's gonna start in approximately 45 seconds, so the coms are gonna go silent. Take notes, get me names. Okay? Wait, you can't answer that."

"Daisy?" Jemma asked Fitz, a smirk breaking her calm expression.

He nodded and reluctantly pulled his hand away to double tap the earpiece.

"Alright, talk to you guys later. Er, anyway, bye." There was a small beep and the com turned off.

Then, the lights in the auditorium dimmed and a booming announcement rang out.

" _Mesdames_ and _Messieurs_ it is with great pride that I present to you _Le Cirque Du Nuit_!"

After a roaring round of applause, the curtain opened and a lean, rod-like man in a long cape and top hat strolled forward. "Welcome! _Merci, merci beaucoup_." He bowed several times, the light catching dramatically on his sparkling costume. "I am Maynard Tiboldt, world renowned swordsman and ringmaster. Today, you are in for the most disturbing, fanciful, and entertaining performances of your lifetime. We have spectacles and specimens twisted enough to tear apart the childlike imagination. We have distorted creatures and talented artists. We have music and dance, acrobats and tightrope walkers. We have an open bar in the lobby!"

A chuckle rustled around the vast room, laden with several laddish whoops.

"All that to say, this circus has taken blood, sweat, time, and money to reach it's fullest..."

The man kept talking, pausing every few words to twist his stereotypically waxed mustache and posing in true showman style. After jotting down the ringmaster's name, Fitz began to tune out the spiel and turned his attention to the scanning the audience for any suspicious characters. As the auditorium seated nearly 12,000, this kept him quite occupied through the trapeze act and contortionists. As well as during the knife throwers and horse tandem acrobats. Then, the stage lights dimmed making it rather difficult to see around the room.

"Ladies and gentleman, Mesdames and Messieurs, it is now time for the _pièce de résistance_." The ringmaster announced, appearing in yet another luxurious costume.

Fitz felt Jemma tense beside him. They were both thinking the same thing; the monolith was coming.

"...I present to you all, The human angel!"

Or not. Fitz's shoulders sagged.

A muscular young man suddenly stepped downstage and began to shakily rise towards the ceiling; his bare chest gleamed with sweat and look look of struggle assumed his face.

Fitz had to admit, the effects were good. There were no wires visible and the feathered wings were disturbingly convincing. They moved like a wounded bird, flittering frantically each time the boy faltered. After almost ten minutes, he finally landed, bowed and exited the stage, trailed by overzealous applause.

Applause which Fitz found himself joining in with. (Not for the actor, but for whoever designed the robotic wings.)

"Thank you for joining us this evening! If you wish to see our next show, hop a train in two weeks! We will be debuting our newest attraction, the only real mermaid left on land or sea! Come and view it in all her twisted, unsettling glory! Goodnight!"

The house lights went up.

The pair looked at each other.

"What in heavens name are they using it for, if not an attraction?" Jemma breathed, accepting Fitz's help rising from her chair. After linking her arm through his, they made their way out of the box.

"No idea." Fitz muttered as they descended the steps. "There's still a chance it is an attraction, they just didn't show it tonight."

"Show what tonight, _Messiuer_?" A voice behind them interrupted. It was the stout gentleman who had delivered them their tickets.

Without missing a beat, Jemma turned and smiled. "Mr. Firth was slightly disappointed by the lack of clowns."

"Ah, yes. Apologies. We do not have that act anymore." With a suspicious smile, he folder his arms.

Fitz held back a snort. Jemma knew he hated clowns. With a forced smile, he nodded. "Er, that's...too bad. I still really enjoyed the show, though."

The short man give a small bow. "I am glad to hear it, _Messiuer_."

"You know, I would so enjoy seeing that mermaid the gentleman mentioned. Wouldn't you, Ansel?" Jemma asked.

It took Fitz a moment to realize she was addressing him. "Oh! Er, yeah. Yeah, when's the show, then?"

The Frenchman's grin grew. "Next month, Mr...Firth, was it?"

Fitz nodded.

"Well, Mr. Firth, if you would be so inclined I can add your name to the waiting list. And your guest, of course."

"We would be delighted!" Jemma beamed, squeezing Fitz's arm.

"Excellent! Well, I must be off. We are packing up this entire venue tomorrow, I'm afraid. Our party must be on the rails the day after, and the train will not wait." He started to bow.

"Oh, um, what train are you taking?"

"We travel in our own personal train. However, if you are interested, we do rent out a few cars. And, I assure you, they are as high quality as our performance."

"Oh, that would be quite fun, wouldn't it? Traveling with a circus!" Jemma giggled.

Fitz couldn't remember the last time he heard her giggle.

"Ah, indeed, it is a one of a kind experience. Now, if you'll excuse me, I really must go. But, if you wish to rent a car, simply contact our management." He gave a short bow. "Hopefully see you on board?"

"See you on board."

* * *

"Okay, I need you to find everything you can about a man named, eh..." Accepting the cup of tea Jemma offered him, Fitz's words trailed off as he smiled at her.

"Hellooo? Didn't get that last part." Daisy's voice rang in his ear.

"Yeah, sorry, um...Maynard Tiboldt."

"Okay...gimme a sec."

The earpiece went silent and Fitz crossed his arms, reclining on the desk chair with his feet on the bed. After a moment, he glanced at Jemma. "Thanks. For the tea, I mean."

"You're quite welcome." She smiled, looking up from the stack of newspapers she was sorting through. "Daisy find anything yet?"

"She's looking-"

"She's done." Daisy's voice cut through his thoughts.

"Her now, I assume?" Jemma grinned, watching Fitz wince and rub his ear.

Nodding, he turned back to his laptop. "Speak of the devil."

He heard her snort. "I would go with, 'Wow! You're awesome. That was so fast.' Or something like that."

"What did you find?"

"Not much. Apparently he's been married three times, and all three woman filed for divorce less than a year after. His longest marriage was eleven months. Also, his parents were immigrants from France, but he's half German. And apparently in 2009 he was awarded 'best knife thrower' at the AEAC's which stands for, 'The Awards for Expertise in the Arts of Circus', because I guess that's a thing."

Fitz sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Is that it?"

"...he once owned a poodle named Sabrina. Sorry, but this guy is squeaky clean-" There was a pause.

"Find something else?"

"...yeah, I think so. Hang on."

With a sigh, he went back to typing the mission log.

"Okay, yeah." Daisy spoke up again. "This isn't huge, but he is tied to a traveling circus that Clint Barton once was a part of. As in, Hawkeye. Avenger."

"Any context?"

"He's a lot older than Barton, so it sounds like they didn't really run in the same circles. Only overlapped for about...four-no, six months. But this circus, it was a traveling deal. So, they would go from town to town, pick pockets and graffiti stuff. Closed down in the early nineties."

"Okay...good...alright." His words plodded as he typed.

"...oh, one more thing. It sounds like the guy in charge was obsessed with oddities and the supernatural. That was, like, their main thing."

Fitz nodded, recalling 'the human angel' from earlier. "Great...thanks."

"Yeah, no problem. How's Simmons?"

"Er, here, you can talk to her if you want." He started to hand the earpiece to Jemma, but quickly returned it to it's place, "Sorry, what was the name of that circus, then?"

"Oh, duh. Er... _Carson's Carnival of Traveling Wonders_."

"Okay, thanks." He jotted the title down sloppily and pulled the piece from his ear. "Here, take this." He tossed it to Jemma.

Tucking her hair out of her face, she strolled onto the balcony. "Hello, Daisy. Yes, I'm fine. Are you and..." The door closed behind her.

Rubbing his chin, Fitz sunk deeper into his chair and bit his tongue. He couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to the circus than just the monolith.

With a sigh, he picked up the phone and dialed the number of the Cirque De Nuit manager. "Er, yes. This is, um, Ansel Firth. M'calling about getting a car for me and my...friend. Oh, yeah. That sounds perfect..."

* * *

 **A/N:** Please review! Have a fabulous day, love!


	2. Hold On

**A/N:** This chapter is a bit shorter then the last, but don't worry; Next chapter will be longer! Anyway, enjoy!

* * *

Fitz woke up in the same position he'd fallen asleep, slouching on a rolling chair with a half eaten sandwich and a cold cuppa beside him. With a small groan he forced himself to stand, rubbing his eyes. Running his fingers through his hair, he looked around the hazily lit suite. Jemma was slumped over on the large bed, her hand still perched on her laptop keypad. The curtains had not yet been drawn, so dusty daylight streamed through the windows.

After changing out of his rumpled suit into more casual clothes, (he had forgotten to do so the evening before) he quietly made his way into the kitchenette. The refrigerator was stocked with the groceries he'd asked room service to pick up, along with complementary glass bottles of milk and orange juice.

Putting the kettle on, he began to cut a loaf of crusty bread and placed several slices in the toaster. Then, he heard a faint rustling of fabric and a soft yawn. Jemma must've just woken up. He stood up a little straighter as he fetched two disposable coffee cups from the stack by the sink.

"Morning." Jemma's sleep thickened voice came from the doorway.

"G'morning. I got tea, if you want any."

"Please." She smiled faintly, making her way to stand beside him.

Pouring the steaming beverage into the cup, he added one sugar cube and handed it to her. Then, he poured himself a plain one. They stood together, siping their tea in silence. Her shoulder gently brushed his.

"So..." He sipped his tea. "So, um, I got us a train car."

"Did you? Excellent." She smiled up at him, a tired softness still in her eyes.

"Yeah...so, what should we do today?"

"Well, you say the train leaves tomorrow? I suppose we ought to pack. And update Coulson on the change in our situation."

Nodding, Fitz removed his breakfast from the toaster and slathered them with jam. Then, he placed two of the slices on a plate and handed it to Jemma.

"...and I should call Will's parents at some point." She spoke quickly, taking a bite of the toast and avoiding his eye contact.

"Oh," was all he could say.

There was an awkward pause.

"So..." Fitz changed the subject, "the show last night was entertaining at least. Possible villainy aside, of course."

"I agree. I enjoyed watching it with you."

"Er, y...you did-" Stuttering, Fitz ignored the sudden fluttering in his chest. "I mean, I did too."

Jemma seemed to notice the effect her words had had on him and cleared her throat. "Yes, well...thank you for breakfast."

"'Course. Sorry I didn't cook anything big-"

"Oh, no. Don't apologize-"

"-you know I burn everything besides-"

"-a light meal is always best-"

"-and we hardly had enough groceries anyway."

They both stopped talking over each other simultaneously.

Fitz felt himself grin at the familiarity of the action. To his relief, Jemma returned the smile, her eyes dancing.

 _Well, this is progress,_ he thought, warmth spreading through his chest.

* * *

The day passed fairly smoothly. They did contact Coulson and told him of their plan to relocate, which he approved. Fitz continued to research the ring leader, but learned no new information. Finally, after a late lunch, packing, and typing up the mission log, it was 10:00. Fitz was sitting at his desk and Jemma on the bed.

"Well, I suppose I should call Will's parents now." She sighed with a fake air of confidence; one which Fitz could see through almost instantly.

"Okay. Er, do you want me to stay with you?" Putting his hands in his pockets, he leaned against the wall.

Pressing her lips together, she shook her head. "I owe it to Will to do this on my own."

Fitz felt a blush splash onto his face. "Yeah. 'Course. Wouldn't want to intrude."

"Thank you. I hope you don't think-"

"Not at all."

"Good."

Nodding, he turned to the door. "I'm gonna go...get some tea. Be back in a half hour."

"Thank you, Fitz." A thin smile painted her face.

"Sure." He opened the door. Then, he paused. "You need anything-"

"I'll text you."

"Right, good. Okay..." He walked into the hall. "...bye."

He could hear her begin to dial the phone as he closed the door.

* * *

After nearly 25 minutes of pacing around the hotel gardens whilst drinking a subpar cuppa from a disposable thermos, Fitz finally decided to return to the room. He spent the lengthy elevator ride going over what he was going to say to Jemma. How the hell was he supposed to comfort her when his presence only made her feel guilty? Once he reached the door, he paused, listening. He didn't hear anyone talking. So, with a deep breath, he opened the door and stepped inside.

Simmons' frail form could be seen, hunched over in the shadowy room. In her hands, she held the cell and the redness around her eyes made her distress obvious.

"Jemma?" His voice cracked as he approached her.

Looking up from the phone, she gave a weak, forced smile. The dim lighting reflected in the wet trail the tears left down her cheeks.

"How'd it go?" Cautiously, he sat beside her on the bed.

With a long inhale, she wiped beneath her eyes. "Fine...it was...well, it's over now."

Fitz continued to look at her with concern.

"Will's parents were very kind. They took the news as well as one could." She continued, breath starting to hitch.

"-and how are you?"

"I-I'm alright."

His eyebrows drew together.

"...really, I..." After a moment, her face crumpled. She sucked in a sharp breath.

Wordlessly, Fitz opened his arms to her. Shoulders trembling, she leaned forward and buried her face in his chest. He held her nervously, one hand slowly rubbing her back and the other awkwardly at his side; he didn't want to overstep. Several times he attempted to speak, but nothing he could think of to say would help her.

Finally, after taking a deep breath, he sighed, "I'm sure his family appreciated it. You taking the time to call them and such."

"Yes..." Her voice come out as a breathy rasp. "Yes, they were very gratuitous. They just...didn't understand why no one had called them until now."

"What'd you say to them?"

With a sigh, Jemma pulled away and folded her arms around her thin form. She looked almost embarrassed. "I said that NASA only just rediscovered his space craft and he was the single casualty. Coulson didn't want me to give any real details, but I still told them that he had given his life to save others." She shrugged. "I...I just wanted them to know." Again, she deflated as tears welled up in her eyes. After a fragile moment, she leaned into Fitz again.

There was a knock at the door.

"Housekeeping." A tired voice called.

"Er, not now!" He replied, embracing Jemma's pitiful form.

"It's unfair that Will was the one that...the person who never made it off of the planet." She whispered in a trembling voice. Words spewed from her mouth frantically. "He deserved a chance to get his life back most. I only had to spend a few months there. He-he spent the best years of his life."

"Neither of you deserved-"

"-yet one of us never made it back. That's just the reality of it."

Staring up at the ceiling, Fitz's shoulders sagged. "Jemma...if there'd been a way...if I could've traded places with Will, I promise, he would be here with you right now, not me."

Pulling away, she stared into his eyes. There was an intensity in her gaze which he had only seen once before; when she'd kissed him. "You can't honestly believe I would want that?"

He shrugged.

"Oh, Fitz..."

"Housekeeping!" The door rattled with knocks again.

"Damn it." Standing, he strode to the door. "We don't need any bloody housekeeping."

"Oh...sorry." A quiet voice replied.

With a heavy sigh, he sagged against the wall. Then, he opened the door. "Er, sorry. Just...we don't need anything right now."

"Uh, okay. Apologies, sir." The employee gave a small nod and moved to the next room.

Fitz moped back into the bedroom, staring at the floor.

Jemma was brushing out her hair with a towel folded beside her. "I...I'm going to take a bath then go to bed."

Nodding, Fitz sank into the desk chair and powered up his laptop. "D'you want dinner? I'll go get something."

"A sandwich would be lovely, if you don't mind." With a weary smile, she glanced at him; her face starting to clear up.

"Sure, okay. I'll call room service." He started to dial the number when he felt her hand on his shoulder.

Instinctually, he covered it with his own.

"Fitz...you have been better than anyone could have asked for through all this. Thank you."

With a shrug, he looked up at her. "You'd have done the same if it'd been me."

Tilting her head to the side, her eyebrows drew together. She seemed to be thinking deeply about something. Then, she leaned down and pressed a timid kiss onto his cheek.

His eyes locked on the floor as he reminded himself that this was not an implication that she felt the same; just a way of thanking him. Though, truthfully, it caused him more pain than pleasure.

After she pulled away, a bright blush on her cheeks, she let her hand linger on his shoulder for a moment. Then, she whispered "thank you" yet again and disappeared into the bathroom.

With a sigh, Fitz picked up the phone and called room service. "Hello? Food service, please...Yeah...I want to order two sandwiches...do you have prosciutto?"

* * *

 **A/N:** Thank you so much for reading! Special shout outs to Leopold Fitz, Chewie-Fan, and DaLiza for reviewing!

Sorry this chapter didn't have as much action, but don't worry. Next chapter will be far more plot driven.

Don't forget to review! It lets me know if I should continue. And have a fabulous day.


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